


Bring it on Home to me

by Amorous_Flammetta



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Eavesdropping, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired by Music, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Requited Love, Shameless Smut, Songfic, Sorry Not Sorry, Top Crowley (Good Omens), no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 14:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorous_Flammetta/pseuds/Amorous_Flammetta
Summary: Aziraphale overhears Crowley singing a melancholy song in the shower, which brings to mind times that he hurt Crowley.Not to worry. Crowley knows how to make it better.Basically, just a shameless little ditty in which the boys have a shower and rampant sex to turn their evening around.





	Bring it on Home to me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all,  
> This is my first ever post of Ao3. I hope you find it enjoyable and that it was sufficiently-proofed by yours truly.  
> The song quoted in the fic is Sam Cooke's "Bring it on Home to me." It can easily be found on YouTube, and I highly recommend it!  
> Until next time, read on!  
> Sordidly yours,  
> Amorous Flammetta

Aziraphale was a bit early. 

He had a planned rendezvous with Crowley at 7:30 this eve, but it had just now gone 7:00. Suppose he could wait. Aziraphale reached out to touch the doorknob. He turned it experimentally. The sound of the door opening was deafening. 

_I suppose he wouldn’t mind if…_

Aziraphale pulled the door open gently, tensing at the creak. 

_Perhaps I shouldn’t._

Then it crossed Aziraphale’s mind that perhaps the door had been left open for him. He stepped inside tentatively. No Crowley in sight. Just his personal urban rainforest. 

Aziraphale closed the door behind him, fully embracing his decision to let himself inside the demon’s inner-sanctum unsupervised. He was nervous, well aware that Crowley, that old snake, could be lying in wait somewhere – anywhere – in the flat. 

Aziraphale felt a faint brush on his lower back and jumped, only to find it was a wayward tendril from a nearby thriving, but terrified, plant. 

_Oh, dear. Mustn’t do that again._

He crept about the flat. Not in the kitchen. Not in the living area. He walked down the hallway and picked up faint strains of music. 

The music, Aziraphale found, was coming from the bathroom. Music and hot vapor. Crowley was evidently having a shower – a human luxury that he had become quite accustomed to, much like the small wireless speaker Aziraphale presumed the music was coming from. He had seen the little thing before, but had little grasp or interest of how it did what it did. 

The music currently playing was “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones. Not Aziraphale’s favorite, but listening to Crowley sing along as if nobody else were there was swiftly becoming his new favorite. He grinned, suppressing a chuckle at the vision in his mind. Crowley, scrubbing his back with a long-handled brush, whipping it to his mouth and singing into it as though it were a microphone. In his mind’s eye, Crowley was showering in his sunglasses. Aziraphale worked harder to quiet the bubbling laughter in his throat. In his mind’s eye, Crowley seemed very “cool.”

He was careful to listen for any sound that might signal the end of Crowley’s shower. Aziraphale did not want to get caught eavesdropping. 

_Terribly improper, this._

The image in his mind was slowly changing its tone. He thought of Crowley’s red hair, stained dark with water and plastered to his temples. It had gotten a bit long lately. He could smell the musky bath products from where he stood. Patchouli. Tea tree oil. Dragon’s blood. Cedar. Amber. 

Aziraphale dwelt on it a bit longer. Crowley, lathering his lithe form, alternating between humming and singing along to his little speaker. Soap suds travelling inexorably downward. 

Aziraphale suddenly found that his mouth had gone terribly dry. He heard that the song was coming to an end. He began to slowly back away from the bathroom door, should Crowley abruptly end his shower, but didn’t get too far away. After all, he could always pretend that he was just coming down the hallway to let Crowley know he’d arrived early. 

_Wait… Is Crowley freshening up… For me?_

Aziraphale felt a warmth in his chest that began to travel all over, but most notably to his cheeks. Yes, things had been going swimmingly since the almost-End Times. He and Crowley had been seeing each other more frequently, more openly, no longer afraid of what their (former) sides would think. The thought of Crowley singing in the shower while preparing for their date made the angel’s chest swell with pride. 

Crowley was making no moves to leave the vaporous warmth of his shower chamber. Aziraphale listened closely in the seconds between songs. Nothing but running water. The next song started. He did not recognize it. Sort of bluesy. Mournful tinkling piano. Much softer and more soulful than the Rolling Stones.

“Aww, yeah” Crowley quietly enthused from the other side of the door.

Now the angel’s interest was piqued. 

_“If you ever change your mind_  
_About leavin’, leavin’ me behind…_  
_Yeah, bring it to me_  
_Bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me_  
_Yeah, yeah, yeah”_

Crowley was half-humming along at this point, low and full of feeling, echoing the plaintive _yeahs_.

It was a jarring change of pace for Aziraphale from thundering drums to this heavy duet. Mostly he was surprised that Crowley would fancy something like this. He had moved closer to the door again, to better listen in. 

_“I know I laughed_  
_When you left_  
_But I know I only hurt myself_  
_Baby, bring it to me_  
_Bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,_  
_Yeah, yeah, yeah”_

Crowley was coming to life in the shower stall, singing along in earnest. Aziraphale felt the giddy flush draining from his face. He thought of all the times he refused Crowley, pushed him away in favor of Heavenly pretenses. 

_“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”_

Crowley’s pained expression. Aziraphale felt a pang. Other memories manifested behind his eyes as the next verse rolled along, seemingly at excruciating half-speed. He thought of Crowley, shouting and gesturing on the streets of London as he climbed into the Bentley. 

_“- And when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!”_

Eavesdropping was no longer fun. In fact, Aziraphale had forgotten he was even eavesdropping. He was sinking against the doorframe, feeling the first hot tear travel down his cheek. Oh, that dreadful guilt. Crowley had loved him for so long. Really, Aziraphale loved him, too. But he was more concerned with keeping up appearances, doing his duties, staying, quite literally, in God’s good graces. He’d hurt Crowley so. 

They’d spoken of it, though briefly. Aziraphale was uncomfortable with the subject and it was mercifully changed shortly after. Yes, things were different now. Things were better. But that didn’t absolve the angel of the heavy guilt that laid upon his corporation any time he thought of the subject. So much wasted time. So many hurt feelings. At times, Aziraphale even thought himself cruel in retrospect. He was a bit lost in recollection, but was trying to snap himself out of it.

Behind the door, Crowley had begun to sing with more feeling.

_“You know I’ll always_  
_be your slave,_  
_‘Til I’m buried, buried in my grave_  
_Oh honey, bring it to me_  
_Bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,_  
_Yeah, yeah, yeah”_

Aziraphale had not noticed that the water had shut off and that Crowley’s singing had become more clear. On the other side of the door, Crowley was toweling off. Aziraphale’s eyes were stinging with tears as the song played. Crowley had risked his life for Aziraphale. He’d broken rules. Put himself in the path of danger. Miracled stains off his favorite coat. Switched bodies. Tempted him to lunch. Stopped time. 

Aziraphale felt that he could never make up for all the lost time, even though they weren’t tethered by mortal constraints. Try as he might, he just couldn’t seem to let go of this 6,000 year-old guilt. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door flew open and Crowley stood in the doorway, skidding to a surprised stop with a towel around his waist, hair dripping and metallic eyes blinking. 

“Hello Azira- wait. What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone a plummeting curve. He reached out to hold Aziraphale by the elbows with his still-wet hands. 

The angel looked up at him with pale watery eyes, the very semblance of sorrow. Aziraphale sniffed and felt his lip quiver. Crowley start at him, orange serpentine eyes attentive and concerned. His hair dripped down onto his shoulders.

“Sad song,” was all Aziraphale could manage between little sniffs, trying to pull himself together. Thankfully, he’d not delved too far into his feelings yet. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley said, ushering Aziraphale into the steamy bathroom. He gently sat Aziraphale on the commode and got on his knees in front of him. He paused the music and closed the door behind him to keep the warmth in. He held Aziraphale’s hands, smiling gently as he looked into his eyes.

“Didn’t think you’d find Sam Cooke so moving,” Crowley said with a little laugh, trying to lighten the situation. Then Crowley remembered another night, back in 1962. Sam Cooke hadn’t exactly worked out for them then, either. 

Aziraphale laughed weakly and wiped his nose discreetly with an embroidered pocket square before looking up at Crowley.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. I’ve not been kind to you over the millennia. I know I haven’t. It’s not a particularly pleasant thing for me to discuss… But I do feel absolutely terrible about it, my dear,” Aziraphale began, eyes gleaming but trying to hold his composure. 

“I deserved some of it,” Crowley drawled with a smile, still trying to repair the mood. He felt as thought the evening was going south before it was even scheduled to begin. 

“Be that as it may, I’m terribly sorry. Sorry for every time I-“ Aziraphale managed before he was cut off with a slow kiss. Crowley’s hands and forearms settled on Aziraphale’s thighs. The kiss was the lingering type, and Crowley pulled away very slowly. 

“We’ve already forgiven each other, Aziraphale. It’s been 6,000 years. The world’s ended… Sort of. Leave those feelings in the past! We have a whole limitless future to look forward to,” Crowley said, gesturing expansively and attempting still to meet the angel’s dodging eyes. 

Crowley did genuinely feel this way. It had been a long, slow game, but in the end, he had gotten what he wanted. The little slings and arrows of the past didn’t particularly matter to him anymore. He had Aziraphale. Hell had loosened its fiery, bureaucratic grip on him. His life was settling into a strange semblance of normal in the human world. 

Aziraphale felt quite the opposite. He thought his past actions positively ghastly. Though things were straightened out for the most part now, he mourned the lost time. Mourned the upset glances and little tiffs of millennia past. Not particularly flattering. Not particularly angelic. Not particularly kind. He’d preached to young Warlock Dowling the importance of every creature on this Earth while actively shunning the creature who loved him most. Downright hypocritical. 

But then again, many aspects of the affairs of Heaven and angels are just that. Hypocritical. 

“I mean it, angel. I don’t hurt anymore. I don’t want you to either,” Crowley nearly whispered, fixing Aziraphale with an irresistible smile. Not his usual cheeky grin or suggestive smirk. It was a genuine smile, like the first one the demon had given him all those years ago, golden eyes beaming. 

Aziraphale nodded weakly, softly sniffling and looking down into his lap.

Crowley knew immediately how to fix the situation and save their evening. It would take a diversion, but he happened to be quite skilled at those. After all, they had all of eternity to sort out their feelings about the past. He wasn’t trying to brush the angel’s feelings off. Rather, he was trying to show Aziraphale how he felt by his actions. 

“Bugger all, I’ve got you all wet,” Crowley said “Damn!” 

His forearms, from rested on Aziraphale’s thighs, had darkened his soft beige trousers.

Crowley stretched up and began to tug at Aziraphale’s coat. 

“Crowley-” Aziraphale began. 

“Humid as a bastard in here. Should really hang these outside,” Crowley continued, as though the angel had said nothing at all. 

He removed Aziraphale’s coat and got to work on his tartan bowtie. For as much flak as Crowley gave him about it, he did think it quiet cute. A bit like opening a present when he got to take it off. The waistcoat was in his sights next. 

Aziraphale sat dumbfounded and limply complied with the disrobing, wide-eyed and softly stammering. It seemed a sudden transition. He was nearly certain that if he were human, he’d have whiplash. 

“Get up,” Crowley said, tugging his pressed white shirt from the waist of his trousers. 

“Crowley, what on Earth are you doing?” Aziraphale managed as he was pulled to his feet. 

“Getting you in the shower. Does wonders when you’re worked up,” Crowley said, head bowed in concentration as he fiddled with the other’s belt and buttons. 

“But you’ve only just showered!” Aziraphale said, in a charming, scandalized tone. 

“That I did. Now it’s your turn, angel,” Crowley said, yanking his trousers down over his thighs. 

Once disrobed, Crowley absolutely did not live up to his word of hanging Aziraphale’s clothing. He turned on the hot water and briskly left the bathroom, depositing the clothes in a heap around the corner.

Crowley casually dropped his towel to the floor. 

“Now then,” he said, taking Aziraphale’s hand and leading him into toward the shower. 

He stopped as Aziraphale hesitated. The angel was taking in the sight before him. Crowley was shining damp, his long, lean body poised gracefully before the shower, the two of them connected by his sinuous, outstretched arm. One hip was cocked to the side as he stared back, suppressing the hunger in his gaze.

Crowley briefly raked over Aziraphale’s body. He was soft and fair, sparse scatterings of blond hair and freckles here and there. His posture showed that he was still not one hundred percent sure about getting into the shower, head slightly bowed, his free hand raised to his chin. Crowley pushed down the heat he was feeling. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he assumed his role as tempter, confidently smiling and he edged closer to the shower. 

“C’mon, angel, get in. You’ll feel better. I promise,” Crowley said, grinning down at him, leaning in, “I’ll see to that.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Aziraphale said, snapping out of his adoration and shortening the space between them, “Yes, indeed – coming.”

It really was a luxurious space. Aziraphale understood why Crowley enjoyed it. There were multiple showerheads, including a large one on the ceiling that came down like hot rain. Water caught them at all angles as they stepped over the raised edge of the shower cubicle. The floor and walls were natural stone, which warmed as the water coursed down.

Crowley thoughtfully selected a bottle of shampoo and began to massage it into Aziraphale’s hair, the latter humming and smiling as he leaned back into the feeling of long, strong fingers against his scalp. Crowley stood close behind, their bodies lightly touching. Brief, slick caresses. Fleeting presses. It was maddening. 

“An eternity of this, Aziraphale,” Crowley purred, as he conditioned and rinsed.

Aziraphale sighed happily.

“Oh, dear boy,” he murmured, eyes closed, “That sounds divine.”

“Watch it, now. Sandalwood or dragon’s blood?” Crowley asked, considering two bars of soap.

“Sandalwood, please,” Aziraphale sighed.

Crowley pressed his chest to Aziraphale’s back, rubbing his freshly-soaped hands over his partner’s shoulders and chest, savoring every inch. Crowley stroked and rubbed Aziraphale all over, lathering him, caressing, squeezing, showing his angel that he cared. His arms settled lower, wrapping around Aziraphale’s belly. He kissed the nape of his neck, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and the unique smell that belonged to his angel.

“Feeling better?” the demon asked softly into the flesh of his neck. 

“Much better,” Aziraphale replied. He felt Crowley smile against his skin. 

Aziraphale turned around and leaned his chin up to kiss Crowley. Crowley responded by pressing his tongue between Aziraphale’s lips. The angel’s grasp on him tightened. Crowley’s hands wandered down his back. Aziraphale shifted one thigh. Their cocks grazed one another. Aziraphale jumped, but Crowley was steely and still, holding the angel’s chin and deepening their kiss.

They had done this before. Many times, in fact, since the almost-apocalypse. There was much catching up to do, and so many ways to do it. Aziraphale quite looked forward to it, privately. Crowley was constantly thirsty for it and was generally more vocal about it. Sex, though a human desire, translated rather surprisingly well to celestial beings, once both made the effort, that is. 

“Time to get out, I reckon,” Crowley said against his lover’s lips. He disengaged his lithe body and began to shut off the cascading water. He stepped out onto the cool stone floor and handed Aziraphale an exceedingly thick and soft maroon towel. Thankfully, Crowley had a little stockpile, as his from early laid wet and limp on the floor. He wrapped another around his shoulders and began to towel his hair. 

He half-peered out from underneath his soft maroon hood to see that Aziraphale had wrapped himself in the towel, starting just below the chest. Crowley grinned teasingly at his modesty, but luckily Aziraphale didn’t see it. Crowley lowered his towel and slung it low around his hips.

_Yes, angel, let’s both pretend that we’re not absolutely raring for a fuck._

The air in the room was stifling, in a pleasant way. It smelled of all Crowley’s bath products. Aziraphale was entranced, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. He wondered how long he would smell like this. Would he catch whiffs of sandalwood as he sat in the bookshop tomorrow?  
Crowley dropped onto the closed commode. 

“So, what now, angel?” he asked, nonchalantly. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale began, “I thought we might, I mean, I presumed, logically, that this would lead to-”

Crowley watched him with amusement as he scrambled. 

“Watch a little telly? Maybe a little cruise in the Bentley?” he suggested, his tone mirthful.

Aziraphale was too befuddled to pick up on it.

“Oh! Yes! Certainly. I suppose, if that’s what you had in mind,” he blurted out, tone rising, clutching his towel tighter to his chest. 

“Aziraphale. Let’s fuck,” Crowley said bluntly, standing before his angel. He dropped his towel to the floor.

Yes. This was exactly where Aziraphale thought this would go next. 

Crowley felt a slight pang of guilt as they passed Aziraphale’s rumpled clothes in a heap, but that pang subsided quickly, more so because Aziraphale didn’t notice the neglected pile of tweed and tartan. Crowley discreetly snapped his fingers to hang the clothes. Mustn’t crease his angel’s threads. 

Crowley’s bed was more luxurious than his shower. A multitude of pillows, sleek night stands on either end, lamps with myriad settings. The bed itself was adorned with black silk sheets of an inordinate thread count (felt good against his scales), a black down comforter, and a fur blanket thrown haphazardly across the foot. 

He pushed Aziraphale into his back and pressed against him for a searing kiss. He ground their cocks together, eliciting a high moan from Aziraphale and a growl from himself. Crowley broke the kiss and looked down at his partner with hungry, flashing eyes. This was certainly a look that would inspire pure terror in most. Aziraphale looked up at him in loving awe, but remembered the song from earlier.

“Crowley, my dear,” he began, as the demon lowered his head to kiss his chest, “did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Crowley replied gruffly, not looking up, “That we’re going to fu-”.

“No, no! Earlier, the song. You said-”

“I meant every word of it, angel.”

Crowley lifted his head to show his honest gaze. He locked eyes with Aziraphale, whose flush deepened. Six thousand years wasn’t much when you considered eternity stretching out before them. 

“Oh,” the angel simply said, smiling widely. 

“I’ll be your slave, if that’s what you want,” Crowley said with a wicked grin, moving lower to kiss Aziraphale’s soft belly, “But nobody better hear of it!”

Aziraphale laughed, doubling over a little before settling on his back again. 

With seemingly no effort, Crowley slipped down toward the foot of the bed. He lifted Aziraphale’s legs over his shoulders and bent forward, warm breath ghosting over his erection. 

“Angel, do you want me to suck your cock?” he asked.

Aziraphale’s knees shook at Crowley’s choice of words.

“Oh, yes. Please Crowley, dear,” he begged, his eyes large and desperate. 

“Then you’ll have it,” Crowley said simply, before taking Aziraphale’s cock in his mouth. 

At first contact, Aziraphale let out a loud, startled groan, his hands immediately traveling to the demon’s still-damp hair. Crowley was hands-free at the moment, one hand on either of Aziraphale’s thighs as he sucked his cock gloriously slowly, the suction almost painful. He took the entire thing, his nose nestled in Aziraphale’s white curled pubic hair. He didn’t move. He waited. Aziraphale’s hands tugged helplessly at his hair, his thighs trembling in Crowley’s strong grasp.

Aziraphale stiffened when Crowley took him entirely into his mouth. His eyes opened wide and he looked down at Crowley, who swallowed around his cock before making eye contact and slowly pulling it out of his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base as he pulled away. Aziraphale briefly thought of snakes and their unhinging jaws.

Aziraphale stared like a man hypnotized, trembling from head to foot. Crowley began to suck again in earnest, slowly and with unmistakable intent. Azirphale marveled at the feel of Crowley’s tongue. Oh, the things he could do with it. His eyes were placidly closed, cheeks hollowed with effort. Aziraphale felt the sensation of liquid heat low in his belly. He wasn’t close to orgasm, but the pleasure Crowley was giving him was sublime. 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s cock entirely from his mouth and looked up at him. He looked composed, in contrast to Aziraphale, who was flushed and close to gasping. 

“How shall we do it tonight, angel?” he mused teasingly, tapping a finger to his chin.

Aziraphale was in a dazed silence. 

“Now, do not mistake me, angel. I am going to fuck you. Have my way with you. _Ravish you_ , as you might put it,” Crowley said with a flourish of the hand that preceded a toothy grin, “but what shall we do about you?”

“Crowley, my dear, please,” Aziraphale begged, aching for the warmth of his mouth once more. 

“Shall I swallow your cum? Push you over the edge with my blaspheming tongue and drink you down with my greedy mouth? Or do you want me to masturbate you? So many possibilities…” the demon said, sitting back on his haunches while he pretended to think, “Or would you rather finish while I fuck you? Maybe I won’t even touch you. Looks like you barely need it.”

Aziraphale’s mouth had gone dry again. He cock twitched approvingly, his hips bucked just slightly. 

Crowley was just teasing at this point. He knew all the right buttons to press. Aziraphale had an obvious weakness for dirty talk. 

“Or have you already cum once tonight? Is that what you were doing outside the door while I showered earlier? Oh, how positively _lustful_ of you, Aziraphale, and in your nice beige trousers, no less,” he drawled, fixing his lover with a hungry stare, “How _filthy_ , and so unfair of you to do it without me. I’ll gladly pull another orgasm from you so I can watch… Now, if you can’t answer, I’ll just have to make up your mind for you.”

Crowley was a good fake. His own cock was throbbing and desperate. He felt a strand of glistening pre-cum connecting him to the sheets. He could hold off a bit longer without touching it, but only a bit. His hands itched to please himself. 

“I was planning on taking you to dinner tonight, you know. Looks like that’s out the window. While you make up your mind, I’ll just have a tassste,” Crowley hissed. 

He rolled Aziraphale on his side and lifted the angel’s leg over his own shoulder. He lowered his face between Aziraphale’s cheeks and flicked his tongue out over his hole. Crowley heard his partner’s contented sigh and drank it in like wine. He licked and prodded with his otherworldly tongue for what felt like a pleasant and uneventful decade (short, by their standards). 

Aziraphale twisted and groaned. The combination of Crowley’s mouth and the positively filthy sounds it made were extremely potent.  
“Oh, Crowley,” he groaned.

Crowley scooted up, his ribcage between Aziraphale’s thighs, and miracled a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, slicking two fingers. He reached back to push in the first and watched Aziraphale’s face from down between his thighs. He was deliciously flushed, full lips slightly agape, eyes closed in intense pleasure. 

Crowley’s slim, bony fingers were working Aziraphale to the point of ecstasy. 

“Poor little Aziraphale. Look at your weeping cock,” Crowley muttered, lifting himself up on one elbow and licking the underside a few times as though it were an ice lolly. 

“Serpent!” the angel exclaimed, feeling himself being opened up. 

Aziraphale looked down at the demon and nearly went over the edge on the spot. Crowley was pistoning two fingers in and out of his ass at a moderate pace and licking his cock in time, eyes somehow peacefully closed. He looked happy. Aziraphale twisted to look at his lover’s cock in his periphery. It was flushed and rock hard, but patient. Crowley looked like he could hold out all night. He pulled his tongue back from Aziraphale’s cock. 

“Are you ready, angel? Tell me what you want,” he said, his fingers still pushing in and out. 

“What – what about you, dear?” Aziraphale asked, craning his neck toward Crowley’s cock, wanting to reciprocate. 

“S’not about me tonight,” Crowley said simply, before his tone dipped dangerously low, “it’s about you. I’m going to fuck those guilty thoughts right out of you if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Well, I suppose we have plenty of time for it,” Aziraphale said, his heart feeling like it would burst. 

He turned over and spread his knees on the black silk, propping himself up on his elbows. Aziraphale couldn’t see, but Crowley leered at his ass like he wanted to eat the angel alive. Crowley took to his knees and began to slowly guide his cock into Aziraphale. He felt the angel’s muscles clenching around him and gritted his teeth. 

Aziraphale was making small, strangled sounds beneath him, pushing back little by little, savoring the sensation of Crowley filling him up. Filling up the emptiness of millennia gone by. He felt his ass meet Crowley’s slim, bony hips and felt his shoulders relax reflexively. He swore he could feel the demon’s cock pulsing inside him. 

“Oh, angel, you feel so good,” Crowley groaned quietly, “ssso tight for me. Warm. Soft.”  
Crowley straightened his posture and placed one hand on the small of Aziraphale’s back and the other on his hip. He began with slow shallow thrusts, moving only his hips. 

Aziraphale was already blissed-out underneath him, breathing quick and deep. 

“Maybe a mirror at the foot of the bed. What do you think, angel? A big, tall mirror,” the demon asked through clenched jaws. 

“I hardly think this is the time for redeco-ahhhh-” Aziraphale grunted, feeling the thrusts gradually deepening. 

“No, no, no! A mirror so you can watch me take you. Watch me spoil you. Would you like that?” Crowley asked, squeezing his hip a bit harder.  
Aziraphale gasped and bucked slightly, his cock grazing the smooth sheets. 

“I bet you would. Put on a right little show for ourselves. I’d love to see your face while I fuck you from behind,” Crowley said, pushing a bit faster now, “Ah, sweet, ravaged angel. What would _they_ think up there, if they knew you were getting fucked by a demon?”

With this, Crowley maintained a hold on Aziraphale’s soft hip, but spat in his other hand and moved to stroke the angel’s cock. The angel cried out at the slick grip of Crowley’s hand around him. 

“If they knew I had my cock deep inside you right now? A demon on top of you. What a sight! Such a bad, naughty thing,” Crowley continued,

“D’you think they’d be surprised watching you take it all? Hearing my name on your heavenly tongue?”. 

“Ah!” Aziraphale gasped. 

Crowley’s tongue was truly wicked, no matter what he did with it. 

“Crowley, please! Oh, oh, it feels so good! You’re going to make me-”

“Or maybe some folks up there would fancy a peek at what we get up to? Kind of kinky, an angel and a demon fucking,” Crowley mused, his tone bordering on cruel mischief, “Who knows, Aziraphale? Maybe some of your old cohorts are watching right now. Watching me fucking _possess_ you.”

Aziraphale let out a desperate, debased cry, pushing his cheek into the soft silk pillowcase. He was pulsing around Crowley, equal parts scandalized and aroused by what he was saying. 

Crowley stopped his hand and gripped Aziraphale tightly around the base of his cock. At this point, his thrusts were rhythmic, pulling his cock nearly all the way out before pushing entirely back in. Aziraphale was pushing backward to meet him in counter-rhythm. 

Crowley leaned forward, his chest against Aziraphale’s back.

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale begged, “I’m terribly close!”. 

“Yes?” Crowley responded teasingly. 

“Please, please. I want to see your face,” the angel begged. 

Crowley pulled out with effort and sat back on his haunches while Aziraphale rolled over. 

Aziraphale beheld his lover in awe. Wild fiery hair, eyes aflame, cock glistening, chest heaving, mouth parted slightly, showing his white teeth. He was positively ferocious, feral even. He looked like he’d devour Aziraphale alive, if his desire didn’t burn him to a cinder first. Crowley was in awe, too, though his view was entirely different. Aziraphale, all pale skin and soft edges, flushed from his chest up, hands braced on Crowley’s chest, eyes liquid, lips parted and panting. He looked so needy. It was driving Crowley wild. 

“Look upon me, angel,” Crowley breathed in a ragged whisper, “Look at me and know that I’m yours.”

The demon lunged forward in a burning kiss, his hands pressing Aziraphale’s chest into the bed. The kiss was positively obscene, all tongue and teeth. Aziraphale tightened his thighs around Crowley, who was reaching down between them to reinsert his cock, slowly pushing past the angel’s tight ring of muscle. Aziraphale arched up against him as he was filled, groaning into the kiss. 

Crowley broke the kiss to put Aziraphale’s knees over his shoulders. He wanted to be close. Aziraphale let out an unnecessary breath once

Crowley was fully inside. 

“Crowley, darling,” he begged, “Please!”

They both knew it wouldn’t be long now. No point in holding back. 

Crowley’s thrusts were fast and deep, pounding Aziraphale like storm waves from this electric new angle. Aziraphale was in the middle of a chorus of gasps and moans. Crowley tried to capture them in his mind so he could revisit them later on his own. 

“Crowley, dear – please!” Aziraphale pleaded, “I’m so close!”

Crowley curled his lips and spat into his palm, reaching down between their bodies and grabbing the angel’s cock. The relief was positively merciful to Aziraphale, who shuddered all over. Crowley’s other hand had a soft grip on the side of Aziraphale’s neck, their bodies so close, creating nearly enough friction to alter the immediate atmosphere.

“Look at me, angel,” Crowley growled through clenched teeth.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and let out a surprised “oh” at the look on his lover’s face. Burning, soul-searing lust. He clenched hard around Crowley’s cock and felt the throes of orgasm grip him. Aziraphale spilt between them with a long cry, followed by shorter ones in the aftershocks. 

“Angel, look at me!” Crowley hissed, “Watch!”

Aziraphale’s eyes had screwed shut the moment his orgasm hit, but he managed to open them with some effort. It was well worth it. Crowley pulled his hand to his mouth and began licking the sticky fluid from his fingers, his tongue forked, his eyes closed, brows knitted in absolute pleasure. 

“ _Mmmmm_ …”

“Oh, my _word_!” Aziraphale gasped. He involuntarily clenched hard around Crowley’s cock. 

Crowley pushed both hands into the pillows on either side of the angel’s head. 

“M’close,” he grunted, bowing his head and thrusting fast, “m’so close, angel.”

The second bit came out as a desperate plea. 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley as close to him as he could just seconds before Crowley threw his head back, howling as he came. Aziraphale felt hot pulse after hot pulse coating his insides. He held his lover close as he collapsed on top of him, breathing as though he might come apart. 

“Angelllll,” Crowley drawled into his neck, panting.

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale replied, breathing heavily and smiling. 

“I think I’m gonna discorporate,” Crowley continued in a pained groan. 

Aziraphale shook with soft laughter.

“No, you’re still here,” he replied, pressing a kiss on the top of his lover’s head. 

Crowley pulled out gently and let his wiry body fall into a shamble on the bed, like a dropped marionette. He rested his head on Aziraphale’s chest, eyes closed, ribcage shuddering with effort. The latter was composed and happy, if still catching his breath a little. He was positively glowing as he put his arm around the demon. 

“Do you feel better?” Crowley asked. 

“I’ve never felt better,” Aziraphale said, “though I must apologize for changing the course of our date.”

Crowley lifted his head and blinked his shagged out eyes. 

“Angel, never apologize for something like that,” he said, with mock-seriousness, reaching for the bedside table, “I’ve got the sushi place on speed dial. Fancy some eel? Maybe… Tempura cheesecake?”

“Foul tempter!” Aziraphale joked. 

“Indeed,” Crowley purred with a smirk, already dialing the restaurant. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes and relaxed his body, not sleeping, but knowing that takeaway would take about half an hour. Crowley, meanwhile, was tapping at his phone screen, ordering a lux full-length mirror on a satin black stand with free two-day shipping. The suspense would be fun. Every so often, he admitted, he was struck with a bolt of genius. 

When the door buzzed, Crowley stood and put on a black satin robe that was thrown over a nearby chair. 

“You can’t go to the door like that, Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. 

Crowley turned to face him, tying the waist-sash, but not pulling the lapels closed. 

“Why not?” he nonchalantly replied. 

“You look positively _debauched_!” Aziraphale said, his tone slightly indignant. 

“Good! Perfect!” Crowley said with a smirk. He plucked a pair of sunglasses from the dresser before exiting the room. 

He returned moments later with two bags, a bottle of warm sake and his wireless speaker on an elevated tray, which he placed carefully between them on the bed. He put his speaker on the dresser nearby and queued it up from his phone. He carefully selected an instrumental playlist. 

Crowley knew better than to chance Sam Cooke coming on again, at least for tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! I look forward to posting more content soon, so stay tuned.


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